


Be Careful Not to Bite Your Tongue

by cottageivy



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Light BDSM, M/M, heavy and medic trying to get time away from their kids confirmed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:15:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23313757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cottageivy/pseuds/cottageivy
Summary: Something has to give in Heavy and Medic's sex life- all the sneaking around and shame is doing them no good. Sometimes it takes a trip to the highest peaks and back to realize that maybe other people should just avert their goddamn eyes.
Relationships: Heavy/Medic (Team Fortress 2)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 102





	Be Careful Not to Bite Your Tongue

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from another account to this one to keep things separate !! i hope you enjoy reading!

Medic was pacing around his lab like a trapped hound in a kennel, decidedly avoiding the gaze of his lover as he picked up and polished many things that were just fine as they were. It was custom for the two of them to drift back from battle at the back of the pack, Medic usually needing to heal the winners of a bloody capture point at least enough so they could hobble back to base. Today, he had stormed away as soon as they had won, feathers ruffled, leaving Heavy to deal with a whining Scout. 

“Is flesh wound,” he said simply to his sniffling teammate, and gave the Bostonian the rest of his sandwich with only a little bit of reluctance. He let himself take his time catching up with Medic. The man needed to brood like people needed to breathe.

“Doktor,” Heavy reminded him patiently, “You are upset.”

“Do not ‘doktor’ me.” Medic shot in his direction, nose wrinkling as he shuffled a pile of papers on a side table for the tenth time.

“It is you who is doktoring me, no?” The hints of a smile began to ghost across Heavy’s face. 

“Very funny, Misha.” The German snapped at him, tossing a dingy file into the wastebasket with unbridled force.

“Tell me what is upsetting you.”

“There is no point.”

“Why would that be?” Heavy asked carefully, feeling as if he were traversing a minefield.

“We have this same discussion over and over without it going anywhere.” Medic spun his finger in a circle for emphasis. “There is no point-”

“So it is about us, then.”

Medic’s shoulders dropped at the weight in Heavy’s tone. The stoic look on his lover’s face remained set in stone.

“Mein liebe, I…” he gestured helplessly. In the silence, a few doves nesting in the rafters let out inquisitive chirps. “I am happy to respect your wishes to keep our relationship downplayed around the rest of our team, but ach, you cannot deny it is frustrating to be continually interrupted.”

“Interrupted?” Heavy asked, one eyebrow raised.

“Well, yes. There was the incident with Herr Sniper walking in on us in the kitchen last week, and Herr Engineer-”

“Oh. I see.” Heavy couldn’t stop a rumbling laugh from cascading out of his belly. 

“It may be selfish.” Medic grumbled to himself. “But with all I do for this team, the least they could do is stop being everywhere at once.”

“I think it was bad week, doktor. Too many coincidences.”

“I hope so,” his lover said nonchalantly, holding up a bonesaw that glinted in the light, making Heavy slightly concerned for the welfare of their team.

Things were tentative for a while, feeling to Heavy as if they could walk further and further out on the ice without it cracking. He knew that Medic had a point-when the only time they used to make love was at night after battles spanning hours and hours, they were both often too tired, and it grew stale quickly. He was a private man by nature and it had taken some adjustment for Medic to be content with keeping things quiet around their teammates for the sake of harmony. There some raised eyebrows when they molded into an even more formidable duo after they got together, but it turned to slaps on the back of joy and respect, and Heavy was just fine with the way things were. Although he understood the German’s frustration, he wasn’t sure if his lover understood things might not even be that different if they were public; it wasn’t like it would suddenly be acceptable to be fucking in the kitchen. However, not being secretive about things would probably lessen some of the frustration and alleviate some pressure, like draining a wound, Medic would have put it.

Heavy sighed and closed his book.

If there were some way to take a break, get away from everyone, maybe they could re-approach the situation with clearer heads. It seemed like there was no clear solution, and it bothered him that Medic was unhappy. If they were open to the rest of the team about their involvement, nothing would change the fact that they were busy and spent free time exhausted. Heavy suspected that some members of the team already knew. He worked with shrewd men who also had the tact to not say anything about it.

There was a rapping at his door, a prim one-two-three.

“Coming,” Heavy called gruffly, and got out of the chair he had sunken into in his room, placing his reading glasses on the arm of the piece of overstuffed furniture. He trailed his fingertips over the edge of Sascha’s barrel on his way to the door, refreshingly cold to the touch in its tiny bed.

“Doktor,” he said, pleased, at the man leaning in his doorway. It was odd to see Medic out of his normal battle wear, dressed casually in a cashmere sweater the color of nutmeg. 

“I have discovered something,” Medic said softly, lips curling upwards to reveal pointed canines that gleamed in the dim lighting of the hallway, “The team is asleep.”

“Interesting.” Heavy answered, a soft smile sweeping across his face. “How did such a thing happen?”

“Scout was boasting for a drinking contest. Everyone was involved. Save for the Pyro, but they had hot chocolate, which makes them sleepy.” Medic turned on his heel, his back to Heavy, one half-lidded eye gazing with the look of a hunting jaguar. “Ja, I could use a shower right now.”

There was an nearly uncomfortable heat pooling in Heavy’s stomach, weighted with disuse, and he stepped out into the hallway behind the doctor, looming over him in the near dark. When the door to his room softly clicked shut behind him he elicited a little squawk from Medic as he propelled the other man along. The showers were blissfully empty as Medic had promised, and Heavy enjoyed the view from behind as his lover strolled towards one of the stalls at the end of the room, leaving pieces of clothing behind him as he went. There was exposure to a toned, smooth back, with the little dimples above his hips that Heavy loved to place his thumbs in. He could look at this view forever.

“Aren’t you coming?” Medic asked cheekily, placing his spectacles on the counter. There was a sputtering of life as the shower burst into action, and in a few minutes, steam was rising from the stall like billowing smoke from a fire. He made his way over to Medic, who was gazing up at him with barely-concealed lust. There was a pleasant jolt when his partner dragged a hand up his crotch, giving a squeeze to something stiffening quickly in his pants. Heavy traced his hands along the doctor’s taut chest and around the slight, adorable paunch, enjoying the soft trail of hair down his belly. The Russian couldn’t see to free himself of the prison of his own clothes fast enough. Medic guided them both under the spray and palmed Heavy’s cock with his calloused hand, giving it a few testing strokes. Heavy let out a noise low in his throat and placed one of his massive hands on Medic’s head, pushing him to his knees. The doctor obliged, the soles of his feet braced against the wall of the stall, already feeling the old ache return in the muscles of his jaw. It nearly pushed him to his limit to accept all of Misha into his mouth.

Heavy gazed down at Medic, fingers tugging locks of the German’s hair when his lover’s tongue flicked out like a snake to lick some of the fluid off already forming at the head of his cock. In a moment, he was in his warm, wet mouth, barely restraining himself from groaning at the shock-like sensations from Medic’s tongue around his tip. It was hard for him to be complacent, staring down at his lover on spread knees, working his mouth around his entire length. Heavy cursed harshly in Russian and raised his head to the ceiling, his fingers tightening in Medic’s hair. The doctor let Heavy’s cock fall mostly out of his mouth, sucking on the head before trailing his tongue along the underside. Heavy swore again when he felt Medic’s hand on him, squeezing, brushing one fingertip against the tip of his cock.

“I dare not go any further, mein liebe-”

“Up.” Heavy ordered, voice as rough as gravel. Medic obeyed him, laying both of his forearms flat against the shower wall, glancing back over his shoulder as the Russian left him for a minute to get the lube he knew was in Medic’s discarded trouser pocket. It was with practiced ease that he let the clear substance flow around his fingers, holding them out of the way of the water. Heavy leaned forward to grasp Medic’s waiting cock in one hand and slipped two fingers inside his partner with the other, loosening the tight ring of muscle. He could have sworn he heard the German whimper with need.

“вы готовы?”

“Ja.”

Medic inhaled sharply as Heavy removed his fingers and pushed himself inside him, the sensation of being filled so completely warming him like he was next to a fire. He bowed his head as Heavy grasped his hips and pulled almost all of the way out, pushing back into him with enough force to make his cheekbone meet with the wall. It felt like he was splitting open before his body adjusted to his lover’s size, and Medic let himself fall into the rhythm for a while, waves of pleasure spreading from his belly when he felt Heavy place his hand around his aching cock and stroke. The Russian brushed his finger across the head over and over to the point of discomfort, Medic bucking against him and pushing his own cock in deeper. 

Their breathing melded together, harsh and hidden under the noise from the shower spray spitting across Heavy’s back. The noises their bodies were making together were deliciously filthy. Medic glanced back over his shoulder. The Russian was taking far too much control on his own. He pushed back on his heels, testing the way his lover held his ground like an ox. 

Heavy was encapsulated in the sensation of Medic around him when his partner began to fuck himself on his cock, pushing back against the shower wall with vigor. He gave the German’s cock a squeeze. 

“Nyet,” he warned.

Medic only looked at him, cheeks flushed and mouth hanging half open, and pushed harder, impaling himself onto all of Heavy. It felt like the other man was brushing up against the bottom of his intestines, and Medic relished the feeling.

“Nyet,” Heavy said again, dropping his lover’s cock to the mercy of open air, and wrapped a thick hand around Medic’s throat like a collar. The doctor took his own cock into his hand, pumping as fast as he was pushing himself backwards, and made a noise that sounded like a high whine when Heavy squeezed harder.

“Doktor likes that, yes? Be careful not to bite your tongue.”

He obliged his partner when Heavy felt the warning weakness in his belly, taking him by the hips with both hands and thrusting into Medic roughly, rendering the other man nearly helpless to his whims. Medic allowed himself to be used, submitting to the waves of pleasure that were cascading down the nerves in his legs, and cried out in German as he began to come over Heavy’s fingers. The other man was ruthless, murmuring into his neck as he pulled all there was from Medic’s cock, slowing for a minute before exploding inside his lover, hot cum leaking out of Medic’s ass down his legs and over Heavy’s waist. 

He was enjoying the panting noises Medic was making when Heavy’s ears picked up the siren-like squeaking sound of the door to the showers opening.

Demo dragged himself into a wall of warm steam, a jaw-splitting yawn lasting the length of the time it took him to get to the sink. The noise of the shower that had been there the whole time finally reached his brain.

“Ach, m’sorry,” he slurred, setting the bottle of scrumpy down on the sink and gazing at his overgrown whiskers in the foggy mirror.

Demo stared.

Demo rubbed his eye.

“What are you staring at, Herr Demo?” Medic asked conversationally.

“Coulda sworn ah saw…” he trailed off, replaying over the fragments of the image in his mind being sloshed around by hard liquor. It was best not to repeat a drunken vision of the good doc on Heavy like meat on a spit. “Nothin’. Need sleep, aye.”

The two mercenaries watched as he veered dangerously close to toppling over on his way back out of the showers, forgetting his original purpose of coming to the showers

“You said everyone was asleep, doktor.” Heavy said out of the corner of his mouth, stomach having dropped near to his knees.

“I need to learn to stop underestimating the amount of liquor that man can take.” Medic answered, returning a brilliant smile when the Scot turned around one last time to wave hazily at them. Neither of them could deny it had killed the mood a bit, and they cleaned up in silence. 

Medic bundled his sweater under his arm and was out of the showers with the door swinging behind him faster than Heavy could blink.

Demo never spoke of the incident of what he seemingly saw again, and Medic remained tight-lipped whenever Heavy tried to talk to him about it. The Russian admitted it was an I-told-you-so type of situation, barely two days after he had consoled his lover in the lab and assured him it probably wouldn’t happen again. When they finally talked about it they both agreed it might be better to reserve things to nighttime and in the bedroom again. It was a busy week after their shower adventure. Sometimes, they were lucky, and could fight a battle early in the morning and end by lunchtime. It was not one of those weeks. RED seemed to be targeting the BLU Medic, and Heavy saw his lover storm out of respawn many times within the hour, a look of absolute murder painting his features. It did not translate well to their love life. Heavy knew that Medic enjoyed sex fueled by anger, when Heavy would be disgruntled at the outcome of a match and pound into him like the Russian was a carpenter on a deadline. However, when it was the other way around, Heavy tended to give his lover a wide berth. The man was like a hissing, spitting cat.

A week of going to sleep with short, curt exchanges and each of them turned to face the wall. Medic often compared him to the face of a mountain when they argued, that he could endure whatever was thrown at him without so much as a tremor. Heavy supposed it was true. He kept most of his feelings under the surface. But under the lid was a boiling pot, and something had to give soon. It always did. Medic would either tire himself out being angry or Heavy couldn’t help an impatient comment from escaping him. 

It turned out that Medic still had a few surprises up his sleeve.

The kettle had boiled over, and despite how hard Heavy was trying to bite his tongue and mind his own business until his lover got over his petty rage he had said it, one more comment to add to the list of things Medic would hold against him forever. 

“You are being childish,” he had said very coldly, slamming his book shut when he could no longer concentrate from Medic’s pacing and eventual slamming of the doors all around the base. “Is nature of war that we will lose battles. Best to get over it, doktor.”

Medic had whirled on him then, and Heavy willed himself to stand his ground, understanding so well in that moment why there were some that called the doctor mad. It was angrier that Heavy had seen him in a long time, and Medic went to sleep frothing at the mouth even after he apologized.

But Heavy liked this new development.

He liked Medic on top of him, both of them under thick Siberian blankets like they were in the cave of a bear, his lover fucking himself to death. He liked watching the doctor convert his rage into apple-flushed cheeks and new curses in German he hadn’t heard before. It was-Heavy turned his head to the side to cast a dazed look at the clock, hands on Medic’s hips as he thrust up into his lover-some unholy hour in the middle of the night. The Russian was so suddenly awakened by the other man’s mouth around his cock fifteen minutes ago, and he wasn’t exactly complaining.

His hands explored the doctor’s chest, riddled with scars. One of Heavy’s thumbs brushed one side of the valley-like V that led down to his member, and Medic opened one half-lidded eye like he was coming out of anesthesia, flushed to high heaven, mouth open in a snarl. The curl of hair that perpetually fell over his forehead in the most endearing way was slick with sweat, the cords in his neck standing out like elevator cables.

“You are so handsome, doktor.”

He saw Medic’s face contort with a hint of embarrassment and amusement, the fury on his face melting away. His strokes slowed.

“Mein liebe, I’m sorry.”

“Do not be,” Heavy said softly, raising a massive hand to cup his lover’s cheek. Medic closed his eyes and pushed into it. “For being inconsolable or for sex?”

“Maybe both,” The German responded, and the two of them shared a laugh that lasted long enough to produce a good ache in their stomachs. “I-”

The door to Heavy’s bedroom was gifted a sizable dent above the handle, the screech of metal against metal jarring and ear-splitting in the peaceful dark. Heavy let out a surprised yelp. It came again, and again, something on the other side absolutely decimating the latch. Too quickly for them to react, it was almost kicked off its hinges, and instead swung violently around to slam against the wall, rattling some of the pictures Heavy had put up. Medic let out a high scream.

Silhouetted in the doorway was something out of a nightmare, a figure with an axe raised above its head, two massive, bug-like eyes glinting in the dim light from the hallway. There was a dark trail coming from behind it, and for a second, Heavy’s heart stilled in his chest. Did respawn even work at this hour? Was it only turned on during battle? His howl of fear melded with Medic’s, and they clutched each other for dear life. 

Click, went the lightswitch.

“...Herr Pyro,” Medic said, in a voice that sounded very much like he was about to faint, “What can I do for you this fine evening?”

Two gargantuan eyes turned back into passive lenses, their teammate holding up a stained bundle of kitchen towels. They said something unintelligible. 

“Herr Soldier blew some of his fingers off.”

Something else incomprehensible.

“In the kitchen. Got it. I will be right there.” Medic finished weakly, looking from Pyro to the fingers wrapped in the fabric.

Their teammate nodded enthusiastically, bouncing away with barely another look at Medic’s position straddling the Heavy. Medic drooped over his lover, mirroring the state of his cock, dragging his hands down his face. Heavy was still clutching his heart.

“I cannot do this anymore, Misha. It’s going to kill me.”

Heavy couldn’t help but agree with him.

“Nyet! Stop peeking!” 

“All right, all right,” Medic relented, holding his hands up in the air. “I really am getting quite tired of not being able to see.”

“Soon,” Heavy said stoically for the third time, throwing out an arm to catch the German in the chest as he stumbled in the snow.

“I think you have taken me out here to freeze my corpse, and possibly re-animate it later when you are not frustrated with me anymore. In that case, make sure you-”

“This cold is nothing. We are here.” Heavy interrupted, guiding the doctor out of the deep snow and onto something decidedly not covered by snow.

“Get it over with, I am frozen half to death already.” Medic complained, stamping his boots on something hard. 

He did not entirely expect Heavy to scoop him up, bridal-style, stepping up onto some kind of platform. There was a rush of warm air kissing at his frozen fingertips and nose, and a smell of nutmeg. 

“Oh! Misha! You’re here!” someone said brightly, and Medic couldn’t stand it anymore. He tore off the piece of cloth, meeting eyes with an old woman whose smile crinkled deep lines in her face. She said something in Russian and grabbed her long scarf hanging by the door, beginning to wind it around her neck.

The door. They were in a cabin, Medic realized, lined in parts with stones as big as his head. The fireplace was already roaring, and the windows revealed the back of the cabin was snug against a clutch of bushy firs. The rafters in the roof were exposed, great bracing beams giving structure, and bunches of dried herbs hung from them like mistletoe.

“Misha,” Medic began softly, swinging his head around like a child on Christmas morning. Heavy set him down gently, a pink flush spreading from the tips of his ears.

“Thank you, Katya. Я увижу тебя.” 

The woman bowed her head to them and waved a few fingers before bustling out the door and soon disappearing on the horizon.

“I hope you like it, doktor. I was thinking a break from team would be nice-”

“Oh, mein liebe, I love it! What is this place?”

“My mother’s friend came to America many years ago. She was kind enough to let us use her cabin for weekend.”

A small smile blossomed on Medic’s lips, erupting into a full-fledged facesplitting grin. “Misha, you are really too good to me. The weekend, you say? How did you even get the time off? I am intrigued.”

“Has been a plan of mine for a long time.” Heavy said simply. “Doktor deserves a vacation.”

Medic shrugged his coat off and placed it onto one of the hooks by the door, trailing his fingers across intricate carvings of salmon on the fireplace mantle. The cabin was small, but homely, and the persistent odor of nutmeg brought him to the kitchen. A small pot of something was simmering on the stove, stocked with cinnamon sticks. His eyes rose to the small, plaid-curtained window, a porthole to the tiny clearing behind the cabin that contained a large, covered something.

“What is that?” Medic asked.

“A hot tub,” the Russian answered, shaking his head. “Katya likes her modern amenities.”

“Wunderbar! I think it might be appropriate to test it out. To prevent any more hypothermia, of course.”

“Doktor knows best,” Heavy replied seriously, and began to strip off his boots with barely concealed eagerness.

The hot tub had been left running, and Medic shivered in ripples of goosebumps while he waited for Heavy to take off the cover. It was beautiful here, a scene out of a winter wonderland, and so blessedly quiet. There must be no one around for miles. 

“Come in. The water’s fine.” Heavy told him, extending a hand over the edge.

Medic climbed the tiny staircase, slipping one foot inside the bubbling water. It scalded his frozen toes at first, burning hot and fast, but the feeling transitioned into a lovely warm sensation spreading up his leg. Heavy was already seated, sliding down until the water lapped at his collarbones. The German took a seat in his lap, rubbing up against the suggestion of something in his lover’s shorts.

“I must admit, this is the most relaxed I have felt in such a long time.” Medic confessed, resting his head against Heavy’s shoulder. Steam was rising from the hot tub in pillars, filtering through the branches of trees far above them.

“Good,” Heavy murmured into his neck, planting kisses up to his ear. He raised his hands out of the water, palpating Medic’s shoulders.

“Mein Gott, that feels incredible.”

He let out a soft curse in German as his lover’s hand trailed down his stomach, nudging under the waistband of his boxers and taking his soft cock into his massive hand. Heavy gave him a testing squeeze, using his other hand to caress his lover’s wet chest.

“Close your eyes, doktor,” Heavy murmured. “Relax.”

It felt almost unearthly to lay there and let the different sensations of the chilly mountain air on his neck and face mix with the warmth rolling over the rest of his body, waves of pleasure quaking his thighs and placing weight in his belly at the ministrations of his lover’s hand. Medic’s legs were long enough to brace against the other side of the hot tub. Heavy uttered a soft chuckle every time Medic bucked against his hand, the Russian fond of brushing the rough pads of his thumbs over the mushroom-shaped tip of the German’s cock. 

“Nyet. Not too close,” Heavy warned him, letting go when Medic uttered a high whine, toes scrabbling against the wall. The doctor’s cock floated upright in the foaming water, begging to be touched, and he squirmed around on Heavy’s lap.

“I cannot be the only one having any fun, mein liebe.”

It was with a rather sultry look that Medic dipped his head under the surface, pulling down Heavy’s boxers to release his lover’s cock. It sprung out with unbridled eagerness, and Medic accepted it into his mouth, planting kisses along the girth. Above the water, he heard the Russian let out a warbled groan. Heavy’s fingers wound through the wet curls of his hair, gripping wherever he could, and gave an inquisitive push. Medic’s arms came up to steady himself around the rim of the hot tub, steam rising from his formerly submerged hands like they had been immersed in dry ice. 

“Be sure to breathe, doktor.” Heavy told him, pulling Medic’s head out of the water by the chin, and looking very much like he did not want it to stop.

“Do not worry about me, Misha.” The German winked, and inhaled like it was the last breath he would ever take. Heavy was treated to bursts of Medic’s warm mouth around himself, swirling the water around in a way that felt like a second orifice. He seemed to suck more enthusiastically the harder Heavy pushed down on the top of his head. The water started to lap farther up the sides of the hot tub, threatening to splash over. Every time Medic came up for air Heavy was progressively more red in the face, his sharp jaw upturned to the sky. The frosty air felt like fire in his lungs as he heaved breaths, going back under a final time. Medic slipped his tongue under the cusp of the tip of Heavy’s cock, running it around the rim. He almost gagged as Heavy’s hand suddenly tightened on the back of his head and he thrusted into Medic’s mouth a few times like a rutting animal, his fluid coating the back of the German’s throat, warm and sticky.

Heavy was saying something in Russian to the sky when Medic came up for air, his chest heaving.

“A conclusive experiment on how long I can hold my breath,” Medic panted promptly, giving his lover a string of kisses down his neck, and trying to not pay attention to his own throbbing member, hard as rock and ignored. Involuntarily, it pressed into Heavy’s stomach, and Medic released a startled whimper when Heavy’s hand encapsulated his cock.

“On your stomach,” came the Russian’s gravelly voice, and Medic obliged him, floating across to the opposite side of the hot tub, where he grasped the sides with all the strength he could muster. Heavy pressed his body into his back until Medic’s upper arms were pressed against the rim, the cold filtering through the firs making the skin on his chest ripple. It was an odd but pleasant situation, cold chilling his chest and being held up against a practical heater in the back. He was practically quivering with eagerness by the time that Heavy finally touched him again, gradually lifting the both of them until Medic’s cock started to rise out of the churning water. It was almost painful, the cold on the head of his cock, when every other second Heavy’s palm protected him. The slightest tinges of different stimuli were pushing him closer and closer to the edge. Heavy was enjoying the way the doctor’s cock fit into his hand, brushing his thumb over its rippling veins. It didn’t take him long for him to curse harshly and buck into Heavy’s hand, spilling hot white fluid over the other man’s fingers.

They fell back into each other, pleased and fast breathing scraping their throats raw with mountain air.

“Is getting late.” Heavy murmured, cupping Medic’s grizzled chin and bringing it to his lips. “Are you hungry?”

“I am too tired for dinner.” Medic complained, clambering out of the hot tub and shaking himself like a wet dog. There was a convenient stack of towels already residing by the door back into the cabin. He wrapped himself up in one, tossing the other to the Russian, who had steam coming off him in droves. 

“Get best sleep in mountains like these,” Heavy observed, throwing the cover back on the hot tub while Medic stood dripping and shaking like a leaf. 

“Why? Because you have gotten rid of my brains?”

“No, doktor,” Heavy offered him a content smile, casting a gaze up at the tops of the firs. “Is best to sleep under many blankets, with fire going. With someone you love.”

Medic’s cheeks colored. “I cannot wait,” he said softly, and took Heavy’s hand as they went inside.

It was different, not waking up to Soldier’s voice on the other side of their door at five in the morning, rousing them for morning drills. Medic’s eyelids drifted open instead of snapping upwards like shutters, and he took a moment to relish the extra weight and warmth on his side. Heavy was still snoring like a hibernating bear, one arm thrown over the German like a seatbelt. His own words were still warm on his lips.

“Misha,” he’d said last night, beyond the realm of drowsy, “I love you.”

The fire had fizzled out at some point during the night, and the light of the new, crisp day was piercing through the windows. Katya had left chopped wood outside for them underneath the little awning, and Medic mused on fetching some as he wriggled out from underneath Heavy, slipping his discarded sweater from last night and other layers he could find on hurriedly. It was so blissfully quiet, save for the chirping birds outside. He could get used to this. Medic worked up a sweat bringing wood inside the cabin, and somehow, Heavy slept through it all. It wasn’t like he didn’t know his lover to sleep in, but it had just been so long since they were able to. Medic almost resented himself for waking up early. He checked Heavy’s pulse once or twice, just to make sure he was only unconscious. 

His stomach growled. The German cast a reproachful glance at his abdomen and tiptoed into the kitchen, skillfully making something to eat as quietly as he could. Throughout the whole process, he snuck gazes out the back window, past the hot tub and into the firs. It would be nice to enjoy the quiet with his coffee, outside.

Medic planted one last kiss on Heavy’s forehead. He wouldn’t go far.

His feet made soft impressions on snow that had fallen during the night as he strolled through the grove of firs, taking sips of scorching coffee. If the odor of good Russian coffee didn’t wake Heavy up, he wasn’t sure what would. Medic enjoyed the silence only being broken by his boots scuffing snow into a little path. 

He surely hadn’t gotten that far when there was a tiny whimpering from somewhere in the brambles. Medic stopped short, nearly sloshing his coffee over the rim of the mug.

“Hello?” he asked, and then suddenly felt very idiotic. The German contemplated turning back when it came again, pitiful and squeaky, and definitely to his left.

It only took him a few minutes of searching to unearth a tiny cub tangled in a thorny bush, several spikes embedded in its foot. A bear cub.

Medic shot upwards and let the bushes close back around it, glancing around hurriedly. The mother should be close by. It would be rather wise to flee the scene. But he couldn’t help but think of Archimedes when he had broken his wing, making these pitiful half-chirps, and before he could really think about it he was down on his knees, setting his coffee down in the snow, spreading the bushes around his thighs. Medic gritted his teeth. Gott, he knew, he knew it was stupid. But he wasn’t completely a heartless monster like most members of his team believed.

“Come on,” he muttered to himself, working swiftly to pull out the thorns and staunch the bleeding with his thumb. Medic scooped minute amounts of snow around the wounds, the water flowing back out taking quantities of dirt with it. The cub nipped at his wrists with teeth that were already needle-sharp, but apparently realized he was trying to help, and settled for various clipped noises of dissent. If he had more time, he would theoretically like to try to fix up the puncture wounds better, take a better look at if the muscle had been damaged. They were massive thorns.

A few twigs splintered to his right. Medic felt an icy lump form in his belly. His hands, a battle surgeon’s hands, did not shake or falter in the face of fear. Finish. Finish. Snapping of branches, closer to him. A snuffling sound like someone scuffing a shoe across carpet. It was deep. The animal was large. Medic didn’t think he had ever moved as fast as when he rubbed a final ball of snow in his hand into the wounds, the cub struggling to its feet with an excited yip. The German’s neurons were firing at a mile a minute, considering his options from what Heavy had told him of the bears in Russia. The bear would certainly outrun him. Verdammt. He couldn’t remember if he was supposed to play dead or not. In his panic, Medic threw his arms around the nearest tree, desperately scuffling up it. One of his shoes, half-tied, fell into the snow.

A massive bear emerged into the clearing, four-inch long claws carving crevasses in the slush Medic had left in his footfalls, whuffing around for any trace of scent. It found its cub soon enough, and the German held his breath still in his chest, heart hammering against his ribcage. Go on, get out of here.

It was almost comical the way the bear followed its cub’s gaze up to the tree branch where he was hiding. 

Medic cursed harshly. The bear’s mouth fell open, and clouds of warm, moist breath puffed out of its nose. It scraped the base of the tree. Medic swore again, enough to fulfill the rest of his life. Bears could climb, dummkopf.

“Doktor!” Heavy came barrelling out of the firs like a steam train, hands balled into fists. He was barely dressed, and zeroed in on the bear, with an expression of rage the German had never seen on the battlefield. Medic saw his eyes flit to the abandoned cup of coffee and discarded boot, and Heavy threw his head back and roared. To the German’s horror he hunkered down and actually charged at the bear. It howled back, standing up on two legs and brandishing claws as sharp as razors. Medic was actually afraid to speak, out of worry he would get Heavy distracted and therefore more injured than he was already about to become. 

“You,” Heavy growled, sending one massive fist into the bear’s belly, “hurt,” he spat, uppercutting his other fist into the bear’s jaw, “DOKTOR!”

Heavy cracked both of their skulls together, and the beast slumped to the ground like it had been shot. The Russian stood there over its body, chest heaving, and Medic couldn’t scramble down from the tree limbs fast enough.

“Mein liebe! Misha! I’m safe!” he called, hopping to avoid sinking his bare foot into the snow. 

Heavy whirled around, surprise clearing the anguish on his face like an icebreaker in the Antarctic. “Doktor?” he said with some wonderment. “I thought-”

“I am an dummkopf, ja, I am sorry. I was helping this cub-you didn’t kill the mother, did you? That kind of undid all my work.”

“She is not dead,” Heavy said reproachfully, glaring at the softly rising sides of the massive body. “I awoke, and you were gone. I went outside to look for you, saw big bear sniffing around. I had worst thoughts. I saw your boot, and coffee…doktor, bear can climb! Would have killed you!”

“Ach, I know, I know! I could not remember what you said to do, I know you will never let me hear the end of it!”

They both smiled at each other, then, suddenly so tired as if they hadn’t just slept through the night, and began to laugh.

“Should probably get away from-doktor!” Heavy said suddenly, “You’re bleeding!”

“What?”

Medic looked downwards. There was indeed cherry-red blood freely dripping into the snow from the bottom of his foot. 

“I must have scraped it on the tree. Do not worry, mein liebe. Let’s get back to the cabin.”

Heavy insisted upon carrying him, his boot, and coffee cup, casting one last glower at the cub, who was sniffing around its unconscious mother with patient curiosity. 

“May I help?”

“Bring me a warm towel, please. And the first aid kit.”

His lover watched stoically as he cleaned and dressed the wound with a whistle, practiced ease giving his hands speed and dexterity.

“See? Good as new.”

Heavy did not say anything.

“What is wrong, Misha?”

“I am sorry.”

“It’s only a scrape-” The German protested.

“Nyet. For bringing us here, to somewhere where you could be hurt. I only wanted nice time for doktor.”

“Misha, please. I can be an dummkopf anywhere,” he insisted, tugging a smile from his lover’s face. “I adore it here. I was the one that was making comments about getting away in the first place. If I could just...be content, vith the way things are…”

“Nyet,” Heavy insisted, taking Medic’s face in his massive hands. “You are right about those things. Doktor always knowing things could be better. Pushing for them. What I love about you.”

A red flush spread from Medic’s ears to the tips of his nose.

“I love you, too.” 

Their foreheads touched like two felled oaks.

“How much longer is this ceasefire gon’ last?” Demo complained, swaying like he was on an ocean liner. “I cannae keep me eyes open much longer.”

“Break into your booze.” Sniper sniffed disdainfully at one of the loudspeakers in the kitchen. “Don’t see it ending anytime soon.”

They had been waiting for the disembodied voice above to let them know when the match would begin all afternoon, late from its supposed beginning early in the morning. It was something going on with RED, that was all they knew. 

Thwack, thwack, went the restless Scout’s ball against the wall. 

“All right, then,” Medic sighed in a suffering, self-sacrificing way, flipping the cover back over the medical journal he had been skimming half-heartedly. His eyes flicked to Heavy, by the fridge, who had stopped making a sandwich stockpile for the battle long ago. The Russian was already looking in his direction with a knowing glint in his eye. “See you all later.”

Some of the mercenaries filed out of the kitchen behind Heavy and Medic, muttering insults to the enemy team and the accursed voice above. Heavy remained a towering shadow behind the doctor the whole way down the hallway, pulling the door to the operating theatre closed behind them with a soft click.

“Danke Gott for ceasefires.” Medic murmured as Heavy sauntered towards him, placing massive hands on his shoulders. 

“Da.” Heavy’s tone was as soft as the breeze, but there was nothing gentle about the way he seized Medic around the waist and hoisted him up onto the clean, brushed metal of the operating table, stepping in between the doctor’s legs, one thigh pressing against Medic’s already hardening member. 

“Wait, Wait. Are we trying it this time?” Medic asked breathlessly, cheeks already flushed with desire, turning around to pull over the tray of medical equipment to them. His accent was extra thick the way it got when he was full of lust, and Heavy looked down as his lover, already wriggling like a worm on a fishing line.

“If doktor is sure.”

“Ja, ja!”

Medic was practically vibrating with excitement as Heavy pulled a detached IV line off the tray, coiled like a clear snake, and bound Medic’s wrists over his head with it to the head of the operating table. It didn’t take very long for his legs to undergo the same treatment, strapped to either side of the table until he was spread-eagle and completely helpless. Heavy removed his lover’s glasses and placed them on the tray, his fingers skirting just beyond the table to crank the valve of an oxygen tank. 

“The scalpel,” Medic hissed insistently. 

“Patience, doktor.” Heavy tutted. The scalpel was tiny in his hand, and it glinted pathetically in the light. With another moment’s thought, Heavy tossed it aside, instead resorting to ripping the doctor’s waistcoat, pants, and buttoned shirt in two. The Medic shrieked with delight as Heavy pulled off his boots and trailed a finger along the backs of his ticklish heels. The Russian shrugged off his vest and sweater, and Medic took in the pleasant view from his restrained position, his lover’s soft belly above a wall of muscular chest. 

In a moment, Heavy took one of the bottles of lube Medic kept around the lab and soaked his fingers, pulling away a few last shreds of ripped pants before teasing the ring of muscle. His lover whined against the cold, clinical sensation that was probably turning him on even more, pulling against the restrains. It was filling some deep desire in him Medic had coaxed out to see the German, who was usually in power on the battlefield, spread eagle and helpless for him. He was readily waiting to be plowed into, and Heavy freed his own throbbing cock from its prison. They had discovered that the arched angle of the Russian’s cock felt heavenly when Medic was on his back like this, so perfectly tuned to hit his prostate. Medic desperately strained his neck, trying to catch a glimpse of Heavy stroking himself.

He held his cock by Medic’s entrance, teasing him, before pushing in. Medic made a strangled noise, head thumping against the table, and pushed his arched hips downwards onto Heavy’s. The Russian fucked him, completely helpless to all ministrations, with his hands on the German’s hips. Medic was enjoying it so much his eyes were practically rolled back in his head, tongue half hanging out of his mouth. He clenched around Misha’s cock, the only thing he could grip on to, and Heavy reached out a massive hand to choke him out as he’d promised. He was careful to pay attention to the signs of air deprivation the doctor had taught him, and not choke him for too long. But every time he stopped, Medic opened one hazy eye and whimpered for more. Heavy wrapped both massive hands around his lover’s throat, forcing his chin back, and railed into him like a rutting animal, squeezing life and air out of the doctor.

Heavy took his hands off Medic’s throat to let him recover in fast, hoarse wheezes, and placed them under his hips, lifting the other man at an angle onto his cock. He thrusted into him as fast as he could, whispering nothings in his native tongue. Medic released a small whimper with every thrust, letting out small fragments of words in German Heavy was pretty sure were absolutely filthy. The sounds their bodies were making together combined with the rattling of the operating table was driving Medic to the edge, red marks on his wrists and ankles forming from the cords, being impaled over and over. It didn’t take long for Medic to become a little lightheaded, and Heavy obliged him, reaching over to place an oxygen mask on his face. The German raised one weak hand to keep it on, the addition of the medical equipment practically sending jolts of fire to the tip of his cock.

“I am not sure if you ‘eard, the ceasefire is off.” Spy was practically shouting, rapping his knuckles incessantly on the other side of the operating theatre. It was plain what they were doing in there, and as common as the regular shrieking from the Administrator once the team assimilated into it. They had all gotten used to it, if they wouldn’t be so loud. 

Two replies in different tongues came from inside, mixed in pitch, the squeaking of the operating table rising to a crescendo and several things crashing to the ground like muted explosions.

Spy simply rolled his eyes and tapped some of his cigarette ash on the floor, dematerializing into the vacant-for-a-good-reason hallway with a small pop.


End file.
